


10.16 Centimeters

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 59 percent crack, Fluff, M/M, bc diversity, small penis shiro, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: It’s noon on the second Sunday of the month, their Voltron Paladin Mandated Mental Rest Day. Being family with the defenders of the universe meant that when three angry teenagers and two angry Alteans cracked down on the stifling work load the Garrison pushed onto its leaders and figureheads, things got done. Shiro will forever be grateful to his friends, but he doesn’t spend a lot of his time thinking about them on these days.





	10.16 Centimeters

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this out of spite for @applepieken on Twitter.

The first time Keith saw Shiro naked it took almost an hour to get his boxers off. They had Talked, well into the night and past the threshold for frantic, hurried rutting under the sheets. Shiro, big, commanding, beautiful Shiro, with the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, and his heart in the center of his forehead, _stuffed._

As the Garrison golden boy, an alien prisoner, leader of Voltron and now captain of the Atlas, Shiro had an image to maintain. He needed to be seen as strong, a wall between the enemy and his people. And he knew, the inner frat boy in him knew, that if anyone found out he was less than average, they would lose all respect for him. 

Keith had listened, held him when he cried and stroked his hair as he fell asleep in his arms. It was just like Shiro to get so worked up over something so small. No pun intended. But Keith was determined to bring him out of his funk. It involved at least a week of more talking, cuddling and slow exploration. Back then Shiro only got naked in the dark, and Keith didn’t have the heart to reveal that he could see him perfectly fine. 

But now? 

“Do you need any water?” Shiro asks, glancing up from his tablet. He’s got one leg draped over Keith’s back, the other going a little numb at the thigh ever since Keith decided to use it as a pillow. 

It’s noon on the second Sunday of the month, their Voltron Paladin Mandated Mental Rest Day. Being family with the defenders of the universe meant that when three angry teenagers and two angry Alteans cracked down on the stifling work load the Garrison pushed onto its leaders and figureheads, things got done. Shiro will forever be grateful to his friends, but he doesn’t spend a lot of his time thinking about them on these days. 

Keith releases Shiro’s cock with a wet pop and lifts his eyes from his own screen. He said he was answering emails. Shiro can see the paused game screen as he tips his head back and opens his mouth. Shiro, fondly exasperated with his boyfriend’s laziness, opens the nozzle on his water bottle _just enough_ to trickle water into Keith’s mouth. He squeezes the bottle, gives it a little shake, watches the way stray droplets land on his cheeks and chin. 

“Hinting at something, Captain?” Keith chuckles, not bothering to wipe his face. He signals for more water then makes a face. “You’re the captain of a giant, semi-sentient fighting robot, and they can’t give you a mini fridge? You deserve better than room temperature water.” 

As if to punctuate his statement, Keith stuffs Shiro’s still soft cock back into his mouth, pushing it to one side so he can tongue over it like a lollipop. 

Shiro snorts, his flesh hand threading through Keith’s hair. “Ah yes, the Galaxy Garrison, strapping alien war prisoners to tables and knocking them unconscious. I’ll be sure to fill out the order form for a _mini fridge_ at the next meeting.”

Keith laughs, and promptly chokes. 

This was another aspect of their bimonthly mental rest day, one they both looked forward to, albeit for different reasons. As the self-sacrificing man that he is, Shiro often let his insecurities and fears fester in the back of his mind like evil mushrooms. He was a terrible gardener and let them sit and rot his brain crops until everything turned to mush. Part of the **Takashi Shirogane Confidence Rehabilitation Program** was to get Shiro to love his body. 

The arm was a work in progress that changed from day to day. Shiro liked it better when he was in the Atlas, because the environment was all magical machinery and he felt like part of a set rather than a late addition. The hair was a little harder to get over, but once all the old man jokes got thrown in the trash—and Keith threw Lance across the sparring mats—that stopped being a big deal, too. And while he missed his gray eyes, Keith reassured him that he could still see his soul, that the color didn’t matter so much as the way he looked when he was happy and excited, the way he looked when he said I love you. 

“I guess those warning labels about choking on small objects wasn’t all that useless.” Shiro smirks down at Keith’s irritated expression. A good portion of the program was also dedicated to getting Shiro to _stop roasting himself!_ It was counterproductive and he was too good for Keith to find a complimentary comeback. 

Shiro barely pushes past four inches when he’s hard, a fact he’s mourned ever since he turned twenty. In comparison to the rest of his body it looks disproportionate, wrong, like a bad photo edit. Looking at himself in the mirror has always been a chore, but now that he isn’t facing imminent death, at least not due to his biology, he really only had one excuse as to why he looked away. 

Until Keith steps into the mirror in front of him, slick and open and ready. Keith, who braces himself against the glass and makes Shiro watch the way his expression changes when he sinks inside of him. Keith, who doesn’t let him think for a second that Shiro doesn’t satisfy him. 

“You’re like a coke can,” Keith muses, stroking him now. It doesn’t take much to get him hard, especially when Keith sucks the head like a melting popsicle. 

“Maybe one you get on an airplane,” Shiro grunts, watching himself disappear between Keith’s lips. He’s loose with it, opening his mouth wide and swallowing him down. His nose nestles into the trimmed white hair at the base of his cock—why yes the carpet does match the drapes—and Keith swallows a few times before pulling back to speak. 

“I’m perfectly happy with the smaller cans,” Keith insists. He rolls Shiro’s balls between his fingers, squeezing gently and looking far too thoughtful. “Think I could fit these in my mouth along with your dick?” 

Shiro pouts. He wasn’t _that_ small! 

...it might be possible when he’s soft but he doesn’t want to tell Keith that. 

“Most people want something...more satisfying. Thirst quenching. _Bigger_.” 

“Do you really think I could take a two liter bottle up the ass?!” 

“You’d definitely try!”

Keith glares up at him. Then he proceeds to cram as much of Shiro into his mouth as he can. He’s incredibly successful.


End file.
